


Like Starlight

by luna_plath



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Het, Kink Meme, Nudity, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_plath/pseuds/luna_plath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For lightofdaye’s prompt at asoiafkinkmeme, “there was nothing quite like looking down and seeing his aunt's vivid purple eyes looking up at him from between his legs.”  Basically PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Starlight

The snow outside their tent piles higher as the night goes on, being tossed in the air by a fierce wind that cuts through the thickest layer of furs. But Jon hasn’t truly felt the cold since he walked out of the flames in early winter, his wounds healed by the fire, sapping every memory of ice from his skin. That was before he met Daenerys and her dragons, just when the Others were making their presence known. The landscape of the north has changed drastically since then but his goal has remained the same.

Daenerys slides her hands underneath his tunic, the two of them shifting beneath their sleeping furs. The brazier adds precious warmth to the air; he may not feel the cold like he used to, but Daenerys had never known the harsh chill of a real winter until now.

She presses her mouth to his, her touch slow and teasing at his bottom lip. Jon makes a soft gasp—he loves the hint of her teeth when they kiss—while Daenerys slides her tongue against his. He fumbles for the hem of her tunic, pulling it up enough for him to brush his hands against her skin, to cup her breasts and feel her shiver against him. When it is just the two of them like this it’s easy to forget about the White Walkers or the hours of daylight that are rapidly shortening. At times, Jon feels like his own life is slipping between his fingers, disappearing like sand. Daenerys is the only thing that can make him forget.

He kisses her neck and the angle of her jaw, reaching for the laces of the simple breeches she wears in private. They are both partially dressed and it surprises Jon when she pulls away from him, breathing heavily, her pale skin tinged with pink.

“Be still,” she says, as if he could do anything else, mesmerized as he is by her long, silvery blond hair and full lips.

Daenerys pulls her tunic over her head, unconcerned with her nakedness. She gathers the furs over her shoulders for warmth, shimmying down his body until her hands are on his laces, pulling the fabric of his breeches just past his hipbones. Shuddering, Jon knows what she’s after. He gasps in a breath of air as she takes him out with her small, moon-pale hands, growing impossibly hard after a few strokes.

Jon resists the urge to pull her on top of him, to work her smallclothes past her legs and bury himself inside of her. There will be time for that, but right now Daenerys is showing him something, working her hands over his cock until he is painfully hard. She licks her lips and puts her mouth on him, teasingly circling the head with her tongue until he hisses and fists the sheets in his hands.

Her long hair is tickling his thighs, distracting him from the perfect sensation of Daenerys taking in more of him. Jon feels the muscles in his stomach contract, fights the urge to rock his hips forward. She reaches down and cups his balls, hollowing her cheeks around his cock and wringing a cry from him as she brushes her tongue along his slit.

Jon brushes her hair out of the way, feeling the silky texture of it in his hands as she brings her mouth back and forth on him. Daenerys meets his gaze as she works him over, her violet eyes so piercing that he can’t resist rocking into her mouth, whispering a barely audible “please.” His legs are spread to give her room and he can see nearly all of her as she kneels in front of him—her light pink nipples and the long, pale line of her neck, her piercing violet eyes—and it is too much for him. Jon gives an uninhibited moan as his orgasm consumes him, tightening his hold on her silvery hair as he comes.

Daenerys keeps hold of him until he’s finished, lightly stroking his thighs until his pulse slows and his breathing returns to normal. Jon’s whole body feels sapped of energy, like each muscle is disconnected from the others, his limbs falling loosely by his sides as Daenerys tucks herself next to him. Her head is pillowed on his chest, one of her hands lightly resting on his stomach. 

He closes his eyes and runs his fingers through her hair, whispering, “Thank you.”

One of her legs curls over his hip, bringing her center in friction with his body. Jon knows he will take care of her soon, will lay with her before the night is over and they are forced to dress in the frigid darkness, but right now he just wants to breathe in her scent and run his hands over the dip in her waist. Daenerys is smooth and warm and close enough to block out all the other trials they’re about to face. Her eyes shine hotter than any fire, burning their way straight to his heart and kindling something deep in his chest, her gaze as bright as starlight.

**Fin.**


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